To Father, with love
by siete
Summary: hints of past Snape/Lucius. Vulnurable!Draco must choose- lose his soul, or his father? Sometimes it is too late to save the damned...
1. Part I Once blind, now I see truth, lie...

Rating: PG-13? For violent themes like death eaters. (I'm not good at ratings! Gah _)

Disclaimer: We all know I own nothing, but a girl can dream, can't she? ;)

Authors notes: Ok! This is my first attempt at writing in the HP universe, and –any- feedback will be greatly appreciated and acknowledged. I plan on continuing it for a few chapters; and if people like it, maybe more? No pairing at the moment, but if you guys want something (slash or not) be sure to ask ;) Any ideas on where I can take it from here would also be greatly appreciated. Or not. …ok, enough, just read, enjoy :D

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Never in six years had Draco had reason to enter Snapes private chambers. Not once had he received a detention, rarely ever receiving so much as a harsh word from his potions master. So why now? Why today, of all days? A talk. That's all that was being asked of him, a chat. And any other day, the young Malfoy would have been able to pull it off, trademark sneer and bad sarcasm at the ready. But not today. Father was collecting him sometime today, on the premise of visiting grieving family. Well, if nothing else, Lucius did have a sense of humor. Two years of full-scale war, and no one would dare question an alibi like that. 

Except, it seemed, Snape, who was looking more than a little stressed these past few days. At the moment he was sitting with his eyes tightly shut, two fingers at his temple as if suffering from a headache that even Madam Pomfrey's potions couldn't begin to answer to. 

Suddenly Snape's eyes snapped open, and his hand flew out to catch Draco's wrist. Draco quickly set down the inkbottle he'd been toying with, but Snape's grip only tightened. Roughly pushing up the sleeve of Draco's robes, his long fingers glided quickly over the boys pale flesh, searching. 

"Profess-''

"When?" demanded Snape, slightly surprised that Draco's pale skin was still unmarred, letting the boy's arm fall back on the table.

For a moment there was silence, and then a loud scritch as Draco pushed his chair back quickly, making to leave. 

"Sir, my father is waiting-'' Replied Draco, his voice distant, expression blank. This was bad. He needed to get out, _now_. 

"When?"

"I'm sorry sir, I have to-''

"_No_." Snape flicked his wand, and Draco was flung across the room, back into his chair, which skid violently backwards, almost falling over. 

"It's tonight, isn't it Draco?"

Draco looked away, and then gave a small nod of assent. He'd be punished later. Blinking away tears that he refused to let fall (he was, after all, still a Malfoy, and _Malfoys do not cry, do you understand, boy?_), he wondered vaguely how Snape knew so much. But it didn't matter anymore; Lucius would deal with it when he arrived. 

"Why? Why are you letting him force this on you?"

"Maybe I'm not. Maybe I want this."

"You want to be branded a servant of a Lord you've never met? I know you Draco, you'd never kneel for anyone of your own free will."

Meeting his professor's gaze almost defiantly, "I won't run."

"You'll go quietly then, submit to a dream that isn't yours?" Snape's voice was low, almost accusing, his cold stare fixed on the young man facing him. 

"If that's what it takes." Said the blond, carefully keeping his mask impassive, unmoved. He'd worked hard to get where he was, damnit, the dark lord did not accepted just anyone. And he was so very close… 

Snape gave a short, mirthless laugh, understanding dawning on him. __

"Lucius does not love, Draco. Not even his own." Draco looked up at him, eyes burning with anger as if he'd been slapped. But was surprised to see not pity, but regret on Snape's features. 

The potions master rolled up his sleeve slowly, revealing the dark mark burnt into his arm. They both starred at it a moment, before Draco reached out a shaking hand, tracing the intricate design slowly. 

"…To love is simply human, and you're father thinks himself very much above that." Snape commented, almost sarcastically, and then added in a softer voice,  "It's a dangerous game your father is playing, Draco, he can't afford to love. But don't let him take you down with him."

"Severus, Severus… trying to corrupt yet another generation of Malfoys, are we?" Drawled a figure standing in the doorway.


	2. Part II Choose your poison

Ok. Second chapter of my little series. I might just end it here; I kinda like it as it is. Sorry it took so long, and thank you to backalleys an Lucia Dreams for your reviews – it really meant something that people were enjoying it. 

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The smirk that played on Lucius's thin lips faltered slightly as he entered, shutting the door casually, taking in the scene before him. Snape was exactly as he remembered, all clammy skin and oily hair; arms now crossed over his chest, his obsidian eyes burnt with something like defiance. So the flame still burnt. 

His son, however, he noted with some concern, looked mal at ease to say the least. Sickly, even. There was a grayish tint to his skin and shadows underscored his hollow eyes, which sunk deep into the deadpan expression he wore. Had he always been like this? Lucius struggled to remember the last time he had really looked at his son, but Draco was, after all, a Malfoy, and Lucius found it slightly disturbing to see a Malfoy look anything but beautiful. 

"I wonder…what exactly has your potions master been telling you, child?" He questioned, but Draco knew better than to reply. Having not quiet recovered from the shock of Déjà vu, Lucius realised he had no idea how to deal with this. But he kept talking, because, after all, that was what he was best at. To slice someone's throat with your fingernails... that is power. To have them slice their own because of your words… is almost godly.  

"He of all people should know better - there is no such thing as good and evil. Words used to give meaning to the masochism of self-righteous martyrs, nothing more. You are above that, Draco. You are a Malfoy." 

"You're wrong, Lucius." Said Snape, visibly shaking. The other man simply gave him a sad, patronizing smile, and turned to leave. 

"Come Draco. We're late.

…

Draco.

…

Draco!" His voice low and dangerous, Lucius turned back to face them his gray eyes flicking quickly from his son to Severus, realizing he was fast losing control of the situation. 

"You have a duty to your family, Draco." He said, his voice tight with anger, as if that settled the matter. And of course, it did. 

"Yes, mindless servitude is quite the Malfoy tradition-''

"Look child. Look at your future." Lucius practically spat the words out, his every syllable dripping with poison he only half meant. "Do you really think they'll accept you as a hero? After you've denounced your family, betrayed your name? No, Draco, no matter who's side one is on, a traitor is still a traitor." 

"Father. Do you love me?"

"I am proud of you, Draco." And that, it seemed, was enough for Draco. Snape watched them go without a word, and then turned and wept for the first time in a long, long time. 


End file.
